Welcome To The Family
by Abstract Art
Summary: Jeff Hardy is a mentally insane threat to society until he is found by a man who is willing to keep him safe from those who want him dead. But is Mark Calaway's "Madhouse" truly safe or do other perils await? Featuring Randy Orton/ CM Punk/etc
1. Chapter 1

**This is my fourth fiction idea that's been in my head for a while now. I haven't fully thought out the complete plot but it'll come to me as I progress. This story is written from several different points of view, starting with the main character, Jeff Hardy. So look at the top left corner of each chapter if you don't want to be confused. BTW: Several wrestlers from different eras will be present so I'm not focused on actual feuds or storylines or anything like that. I just felt the need to go insane with this story. Literally. Feel free to review (but be nice please). Hope you guys enjoy :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the wrestlers. I just dream that I do.**

Chapter 1: Jeff Hardy

_"He's not crazy. He just a little sick." _I remember hearing those words leave my brother's mouth and I remember wanting them to be about my father, but they weren't. I dreamed of a day when he would say something positive to his boys about me, but sadly, those exact words were about me. He was lying, however. He's lied a thousand times for my sake, because he wants to protect me from my own reality.

The day he said those words was the day I drove a pencil through the eye of one of my high school class mates. It happened a long time ago, but I remember it vividly. His name was Drew. The average tall, blonde all the girls craved for his athleticism and wit. He'd even admit that he was a bit of a bad boy. The type to hang out with a group of bullies, but he'd never do anything as extreme as the other bullies. The cruelest he'd ever done was probably pants a guy in the middle of the school hallway. Other than that, he was the bad boy who didn't exactly like to get his hands dirty. I'd never really crossed his path or did anything to make him want to mess with me. But the day he did choose to mess with me, he made a godawful mistake. Back then, I didn't know I had issues like Matt told me. I always denied it.

Sadly, afterwards, I couldn't deny it...

We were all seated in Physics class on a rainy Monday. For some reason, rainy weather always brought about gloomy attitudes. So I sat in the front of the room to avoid the girls who were usually PMSing in the back of the room at the time. It was better for me to focus that way. Our teacher, Mr. Hart, was feeling the effects of the rainy weather too. I could tell by the way he dragged out his words and his voice was a bit monotone, lifeless, but it wasn't his usual disposition. While listening to him go on about the law of inertia, I just happened to feel something hit the back of my head. A bit caught off guard, I turned once to see what had hit me and saw a large ball made of aluminum foil lying on the floor right behind my chair. Funny, I thought to myself. Because that was not the usual. No one had ever thrown something at me in class. Except for that one bitch, Michelle. I think she had a crush on me.

Anyway, I tried looking for the culprit but no one cracked a single smile or gave any hints as to who had thrown the aluminum ball. After a while, I simply shrugged it off and went back to focusing on Mr. Hart. Surprisingly, he didn't react, which meant he didn't see a thing of what had happened. I thought I was going crazy until I felt another one tag me on the back of my neck. I turned around much quicker the second time and this time, I caught the evil little raccoon fighting not to burst into laughter. He was sitting right beside his little goon, Cody, who was staring at me like he was plotting to come after my life. I thought my stone cold glare would have been enough to warn them not to throw anything else at me. But apparently, they weren't as bright as I thought they were.

The third time, the second that aluminum ball sailed all the way from the back of the classroom to the front row where I sat and I felt its impact as it painfully scraped across my right ear, something in me snapped. I didn't know what it was nor could I find the words to describe it to the principal much later, but as soon as I felt it, I was out of my desk before I knew what I was doing. The pencil was already in my hand and all I could focus on was my target. That disgusting thick head of blonde hair.

I remember the look of shock that'd suddenly appeared on his face when he saw me practically jump over desks to get to him and the horrific screech he made when I stabbed the pencil into his left eye, screaming, _"Throw another one, you ugly, blind bitch!"_ And I remember everyone gasping and screaming and scattering about the room as blood spurted all over Drew and myself.

It was then that I knew something was _really _wrong with me. Because as the blood stained my old, white T-shirt, and as I touched it with my finger tips and took a good look at what I had done to my class mate, I felt a sense of invigoration. I felt a sense of excitement and thrill. And all of it had just come rushing inside me like a tidal wave with no way of stopping or controlling it. The violence made something blossom in me that I can admit felt a lot better than getting my first car. I wanted to rip the pencil out of his eye and stab the other one, but by then, Mr. Hart had grabbed me from behind and dragged me out of the room. I fought like he was kidnapping me, but the feeling I had in that moment was like the feeling a child gets when you take his favorite toy and never return it. I wanted it back. I wanted more of Drew's blood on me.

I wanted to bathe in it...

But Mr. Hart wouldn't let me. _"You'd better explain yourself, Hardy."_ He said to me. _"I'm pretty sure it won't get you out of jail, but I'd still like to hear one."_

The principal stood right next to him, scowling at me with her old, pinched up face. She never scared me no matter how loud she screamed and no matter how hard she frowned at me whenever I got into trouble. She was simply loud mouth Icky Vicky.

I refused to say anything, but my brother had been there, luckily. He was a witness to the whole thing. _"My brother's really sorry, Mr. Hart. He's not like this at all. He doesn't know what came over him."_

"Excuse me?" Icky Vicky cut in like a screeching whistle in complete silence. _"Let the boy speak for himself or I'll make you suffer his punishment with him."_

But I still wouldn't talk. I pretty much figured I was above talking at that point. Let alone the shock and astonishment I felt toward myself that silence me for the rest of that day. My eyes were glazed over and people had to tell me before I actually saw it for myself that my eyes looked dark and troubled and my expression was like I hadn't slept in days.

"_Please don't send him to jail, Mrs. Guerrero."_ Matt begged the principal and she simply turned her nose up at him with a snort. We both hated that squeaky-voice bitch, but I hated her more. Her voice did things to me. Drove me insane like a bat in a cave listening to the constant screaming of frightened little girls. I wanted to do really bad things to her when I heard her loud, inhumanly high pitched, annoying voice.

"_Well obviously that's where he's gonna have to go."_ She responded coldly. So coldly I felt the chill in my own bones. _"Because that's where we send crazy people like him. Jail!"_

"_Mrs. Guerrero, he's not crazy! He's just a little sick."_

_Yeah...sick in the head._

I was in prison for about a year and boy if I didn't learn one damn thing from that place, I most definitely learned that it was no place for pretty boys like me. Everyday I had to deal with inmates coming to me with boners I never imagined a teenager could have, wanting to do things to me I didn't think was possible. I was terrified, but at the same time, I wanted some of them back. As much as I missed screwing girls at almost every party I attended, I wanted a little rough meat, too. It scared me a little that my appetite for sex had come from males, but it was nothing I could deny of myself.

"_You're not getting' outta here without a little booty raidin'!"_ One guy said to me one day while we were all showering. _"If ya drop it, we stick a cock in it."_

The look I had given him wasn't the nicest and he didn't _look _the nicest either, but I didn't say anything. In fact, I was amazed that he'd said anything like that to me at all. He wasn't the type to just let me ignore him either. Eventually, he approached me. Had about a good two and a half feet on me and then I realized I had no choice but to give in to him because if I didn't, I would suffer worse consequences. He took me in front of dozens of other men who watched and cheered on like it was a damn cage fight. We were wet and steamy from the shower and no matter how much he got from me, he still wanted more. More. More! Until I thought I was going to fall apart.

I suppose that shower encounter gave him the mentality that he owned me and it was in his jurisdiction to keep all hands off of me other than his own. When others tried to take me like he did, he always showed up like Batman to the scene of a crime and beat the living hell out of those who even attempted to lay a hand on me. I guess I felt a bit of protection after that, but at the same time, I didn't want him touching me either. In fact, every time he found me in that damn community shower and made me his little whore, I felt the same growing anger that I felt the day I stabbed Drew through the eye with a pencil. The same urge to do something really bad to him. Like rip out his intestines and hang him from the top of the prison with it. But I didn't do anything like that. No. It was worse.

There was one boy who actually had sympathy for me after watching that humungous brute dominate me day after day. His name was Randy. For some reason, no one messed with Randy. He always seemed to be off to himself, watching the others with a killer's stare like he was plotting to murder someone. Come to find out...he really was. I didn't have to ask why no one ever tried to fuck him up the ass like they did to me. He pointed it out quite simply. _"I ripped a man's dick off with my bare hands when he tried. He died from the blood loss...no one gave a shit."_

I was shocked, but at the same time, I was a bit relieved to find someone I could learn from. He told me that the only way to solve my issue with my personal pimp daddy was to take him out permanently.

"_I'm sure he'll get a lot more booty in hell while Satan's fucking his brains out. He'll have no other choice but to enjoy that shit too."_ Randy would tell me. _"So don't fucking doubt me or I'll rip your little penis off too, bitch."_

He didn't have to say anything more to convince me that it was the right thing to do. It was close to the day of my release and a part of me wanted to go out with a bang. Leave something behind that the inmates would remember of me besides me getting violated all the time. I had already know it was that new found "sick" part of me and I wanted nothing more than to satisfy that lust for vengeance it gave me. On top of that, I wanted Randy to be proud of me. I didn't know why, but I felt that I needed to look up to him in order to survive in that place.

I remember that day I finally learned the name of my personal rapist. He called himself "The Animal" because he craved sex 24/7 and had apparently gone on rape rampages several days out of every week with dozens of different men. But others like me just called him Dave. Actually, I never spoke his name at all for fear that it would turn him on and make him more fierce in the shower. He enjoyed when people who stood under him called his name; said it gave him "the power." And apparently, he had a lot of power that day before my release when he approached me in the shower.

"_You already know what daddy wants from his pretty, little bitch." _He had said with so much confidence it instantly struck a nerve in me.

"_How do you know that's what the pretty, little bitch wants?" _That was the first time I ever said anything besides a dirty, sexual response to him.

"_I don't give a fuck what the pretty little bitch wants!" _He yelled at me which drew attention from the others in the shower. _"Why don't you get on your knees and swallow these nuts, slut!"_

It was then that I felt it. That snapping sensation that went off in the back of my head that immediately sent my senses running, my blood boiling, my heart thrumming like hooves in a stampede. I immediately felt that overbearing urge and in turn, my body responded before my mind could and I spun on him quicker than any eye could register. My leg was the first to move and it felt so good to feel my knee collide with Dave's crotch with a crunch so loud it made the other guys cringe. As soon as Dave crumpled over on himself, I reached for my bar of soap and slammed it into his mouth, sending it straight down into his throat. The bar was wide and square-shaped so it was no surprise to me when I heard his windpipe crackle as it expanded outward a lot farther than it was suppose to. In fact, it probably shattered.

Dave immediately clawed and grabbed at his throat while he stumbled ackwardly, hardly able to move with the unbearable pain between his legs. The pain I had given him. But I wasn't done. Something in me that I could only describe as feral wanted more. More pain! I enjoyed it so much I couldn't get enough. I started throwing my fists at his face like a mad man, landing blows so hard I could see blood spewing everywhere. I broke skin and bone with those punches and didn't know how. I was strong but I didn't think I was strong enough to utterly destroy his face like I did. Besides, he was at least twice my size. But that didn't bother me at that moment. At that moment, all I wanted was to destroy every ounce of dignity and pride he carried. And then...I wanted to destroy him physically.

But to my surprise, I blacked out before I could even finish him off. Or at least...before I could see myself finish him off. Sounds crazy, but there were several different guys coming to me telling me all the things I did to Dave that were absolutely horrifying, but I couldn't remember any of it. They had told me that I'd become a totally different person that day. And when I asked who they couldn't tell me. As if some new person had sprouted out of Jeff Hardy. Some naked killer. Then again, there was no telling.

Randy was proud of me that day. And above all, I was proud that I had pleased him. Without knowing why that had made me the happiest about the whole thing. The fact that Randy was proud of me – the man no one ever touched because he was just that deadly. _"You did good, kid. These ass holes can't stop talking about what happened."_

"_Did you see me? Can you tell me what I did to him, Randy?"_

"_No, Jeff. I was off somewhere else beating the shit outta some other bitch. But I couldn't rip off his dick. He had a vagina."_

"_He was a tranny or something?"_

"_Who the fuck knows. I just know you owe me someday for giving you the idea of killing Dave. Now that he's gone, I see less guys walking around here with wrinkled faces and widespread legs. It's kinda relieving, ya know?"_

"_I guess." _But it wasn't relief that I felt. It was something different. _"I wish you could get out with me tomorrow, though."_

"_I got a whole 'nother year, kid. You just make sure you don't end up in a damn looney bin when you get outta here, or I'll hunt you down and rip your dick off, alright?"_

That was the first and last time I laughed with Randy, although he was as serious as a heart attack. And the following day was difficult because I had to say good-bye to him. The only guy I trusted in that god-forsaken place. But once I was out...he was never again a thought. In fact, Matt was. I had heard from different sources that he had started to do drugs and was hooked ever since I'd gotten myself locked up. Had to do rehabilitation for a few months, but I was doing just fine. Still I could never forget the reason I had officially "lost my mind" in the first place.

"_He's not crazy. He's just a little sick."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Mark Calaway**

"So, tell me your name again?" I tried my hardest not to sound too harsh and monotoned as I shifted slightly in my chair, my elbows rested on the wide, mahagony desk in front of me. The young woman sitting directly across from me seemed to mimick my movement, shifting in her chair as well as she watched me with her piercing, blue eyes. She was nothing like the other female patients I had dealt with. The ones with the twitching eyes or the strange urges to shred my curtains like rabid animals, something about her made me uncomfortable still. It was the way she carried herself. Like absolutely nothing was wrong with her. Like her mind was the safest place a man could look into and not be scarred. Like she had absolutely nothing to hide from the rest of the world. But the reality was...she did. She sat with her long, hairless legs crossed one over the other and her perfect hands were laid over her knees. Her back was almost completely straight and she held her chin up high like a princess. In fact, that was what I wanted to call her. A princess. Especially with the way her long, blonde hair fell past her shoulders in Shirley Temple spiral curls that were a bit below her age group. That was where everything that would've been normal about her turned into everything unimaginably abnormal. She wore a short royal blue dress with a little white apron tied around the skirt, high white socks, and school girl shoes with heels tall enough to stab a man through the skull. She resembled a much older Alice from a fetish convention. I assumed that was her Wonderland.

"It's Michelle." She told me in the sweetest voice I had ever heard. Sadly, sweet voices didn't effect me like they used to. Especially if I was hearing it from a patient.

I gave her a once over. She looked nothing like a 'Michelle' to me, but the name was still cute. I couldn't even crack a smile at her because if I had, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself from laughing at her interesting taste in fashion. _Can I just call you Dollface? _"You can just call me-"

"Dr. Calaway." She completed my sentence once again in her sweetest voice which in turn, made me swallow the threat that almost came out of me.

I frowned slightly, but not enough to make her think she'd done something wrong. I mean, sure I was a bit freaked out that she knew my name like that. My name plate wasn't even on my desk that day and she'd never been here before. _Ok, maybe she'll be like my other patients much later. _"I was going to say you can just call me Mark." I shrugged a little, softening my gaze on her.

"It's alright." Michelle leaned forward slightly. "I like how Dr. Calaway sounds when I say it. Do you like how Dr. Calaway sounds, Dr. Calaway?"

I blinked once. "Uh, sure, I guess. But seriously, you can just call me Mark-"

She suddenly slammed her fists down on the arms of her chair, her once sweet face contorting into an expression of pure rage as she screamed at me, "But I wanna call you Dr. Calaway! That's your name isn't it!"

I sat back in my chair, a little caught off gaurd by her sudden burst of anger. "Okay, Michelle." I said quietly, hoping to calm her down with my voice. "You can call me Dr. Calaway if you want. Just...stay calm with me alright? I'm not a big fan of loud noises."

"Okay, Dr. Calaway." She was smiling at me again. Her pearly white teeth drawing my attention to her bright red lips and her blue eyes that sparkled like diamonds at me. I sighed inwardly, adjusting my belt as if somehow that would have made my balls grow back after that scare.

"Alright, Michelle, tell me what was going on when you first noticed that you were...a unique human being." I knew I had to put it in light terms for her because I didn't want her to have a fit of rage and then my life would come to an end in this office.

Michelle rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, taking a deep breath as if she would be telling me her entire life story. "I've always had an obsession with dolls." She began.

_No shit, Shirley._

"My mother bought me lots of dolls for my birthday and every Christmas, she would give me the prettiest porcelain dolls I'd ever seen. At first it was a secret. I didn't want anyone juding me at school or making fun of me because of my obsession with dolls. Especially in high school. Anyone normal would be too old for them, but I didn't think I was. I loved them too much to get too old for them. But that was before the fire happened."

I frowned, curious now. "Fire?"

"Yes." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "My house burned down right before graduation. It took both my parents. My father I didn't care much about, but my mother...I didn't know what to do with myself after I realized she was gone."

"Why didn't you care about your father?"

"He was drunk every night. Came home abusing both me and my mom. Sometimes, when I was a little girl, he would tie us both up in the living room and have his way with us. He would do things to us I'd rather not talk about."

"You don't have to if you don't want to."

"My mother meant the world to me. She comforted me whenever my dad tried to beat me for making bad grades. And she always told me I was her perfect, little angel. The only reason why I survived that fire is because I wasn't there until it completely destroyed our house. I was on my way back from school actually. And when I saw it I...lost my mind. The only thing the fire department could salvage was...this." My eyes almost went wide as, seemingly out of nowhere, she lifted up a doll in her right hand. It looked just like her. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. A royal blue dress with black school shoes. The only difference was that the doll had a large crack going down one side of her head, splitting through her left eye. Patches of her hair were missing and parts of her silk dress were burned away. I blinked several times at the doll, trying to figure out where it had come from.

"My grandparents took me into their home and I had nothing left but this doll. I named her Maddy. That's short for Madeline. I wanted to be like her because...well...she's perfect." I noticed that her bottom lip began to tremble and her face was growing a bit red. She stroked the doll's patchy, mangled hair as she sniffled softly. "She's perfect, Dr. Calaway. Don't you see? I wanna be perfect like her for Mother!" Tears began to fall at that moment and I had to take a deep breath to calm my own emotions. I never felt sorrow when my patients did, I just felt angry because I hated emotions. Especially with women. They drove me insane. Literally.

"So is that why you dress like this?"

"Yes. I want to be my Mother's perfect little angel so she can smile at me every time she sees me from that knarly place in the sky." She smiled weakly through her tears and I almost smiled back because for a second, she looked absolutely adorable. Like an innocent little porcelain doll that'd been broken beyond repair. She hugged the doll to her chest and propped her feet up in the chair like an abandoned child. A child in an adult's body. She began to sob right after she smiled at me and sadly, I felt nothing for her. But at the same time, I wanted nothing more than to help her. I wanted to adopt her, as strange as that may sound.

It was beyond-strange people like her that I chose to adopt. Never the 'normal crazy ones.' People who seemed completely out of the category of 'ordinary'. In my eyes, she most definitely belonged in the Madhouse. "Michelle?" I spoke calmly, sitting forward onto my desk. "Michelle, look at me and stop crying. Right now." I sounded like a controlling father no matter how hard I tried not to. She looked up at me with broken eyes, not a single hint of anger in those blue orbs that would set me off inside. "Michelle, can I tell you something? You don't belong in this office right now, you know that?"

She sniffled, frowning at me as if I had told her the toothfairy was real. "W-what do you mean, Dr. Calaway?" She asked in a childish voice.

I stood up from my chair, hearing a few bones pop in my back. Damn, was I getting old? I kept my eyes on her as I walked around to the front of the desk and sat down in front of her, folding my arms across my chest. She looked up at me like a kicked puppy, her eyes large and so full of pain. All of it had come so quickly and so suddenly. "I do a little more than my description foretells." I began to explain. "Y'see, long ago I was given a sign that, uh," I looked off for a second a shrugged. "I guess made me somewhat of a good Samaritan. I decided people like you deserved more than just an appointment in my office. People like you are alone in the world. I know how that feels. Believe it or not, Michelle, I'm just like you."

"What?" She whispered. "You're nothing like me. There's nobody like me!" She raised her voice again. "I'm a fucking lost cause! You can never be like me!"

"Listen, Michelle." I spoke louder to overpower her and she was obivously a bit startled by the depth and huskiness of my voice. "I don't collect dolls or anything like that, but I'm unique just like you. You're not crazy. You're just unique, ya hear?" She frowned at me again. "That's why I've decided to take you in. I call it the Madhouse. A safe haven for people like you and me."

"Safe...? Safe from who?"

"The world, Michelle? They want people like us locked away in some asylum on an unknown island where the sun never shines, but I'm not gonna let that happen to you. Trust me. I know what goes on in those types of places and you wouldn't be able to survive that shit." I shuddered visibly, making her giggle ever so softly at me. "Go to the bathroom and clean yourself up. You're makeup looks like shit now, Dollface." She laughed at that and I was happy she had. "When you get back I'll tell you more about the house."

Michelle put her feet back on the floor and stood, smiling at me as if I was her gaurdian angel. I noticed that her right eye twitched a little bit. _Great. _She opened her arms wide and wrapped them around me, nearly throwing herself into me like a daughter finding her lost father. I grunted a little. She was strong like an ox for a wannabe Cinderella Barbie. "Oh, Dr. Calaway." _Oh, my fucking God. Did she just __swoon? Lady, I'm not your fucking Prince Charming. _"I'd love to live in your Madhouse. Just as long as I get to bring my dolls."

"Darlin', you can bring as many dolls as you want." I almost chuckled. "And by the way, you can stop touchin' me now."

She jumped back immediately, giving me a shy smile before turning to leave. "Thank you, Dr. Calaway." She giggled softly, sashaying her way toward the door.

I watched her with a smile...until she opened the door and left. And the second the door shut behind her- "Well, isn't she just the prettiest little Barbie doll?"

_Fuck._ I recognized that inhuman voice and all the other voices that spoke along with it like listening to seven different people talk at the same time. My skin instantly scrambled and for a moment I was locked into place, stunned silent by the horrifying voice that'd come from behind me. My blood ran cold, colder than it already was and the room had grown cold as well. Like a goddamn ice box. I wanted to turn around. Wanted to look whoever had spoken in the face, but I couldn't. I couldn't move a muscle. I never could. And _it _knew that. _It _knew I was afraid, but I was too stubborn to show it. "What in the seven hells are you doing here, you son of a bitch." I growled impatiently and I could feel _it _chuckling behind me. That booming deep voice shaking the very foundation of my desk. "Stop fucking laughing. I'm dead ass serious."

"Is that so? Well why won't you let me see your pretty eyes, Mark? You hardly ever do." Regardless of my demand, _it _was still laughing. _It _was probably taunting me like _it _usually did. "I want to see them, Mark."

"Oh yeah? Well, what if I don't want you to see them. You have your own to fucking look at."

"Oh, stop being such a child, Mark." It dragged out my name like It felt some sort of arousal from it. Its words sounded like they were coming from the mouth of a snake. My body shuddered in response to Its demonic drawl.

"Look, can you just get the fuck out? I'm tired of seeing you. I'm tired of dealing with you. I want you out of my life, goddamnit." My words were thick with anger and I was certain It heard how angry I was getting. Then again, I didn't intimidate It like I intimidated others.

"Listen to yourself, Mark. Do you realize exactly who you're talking to?"

"You're not real."

"Oh, yes I am, Mark." It startled chuckling again and this time I heard the chair roll backwards, followed by heavy footsteps on the thin, red carpet. "I am real in every part of your reality. What, do you think you are dreaming right now? Do you think you are trapped in some kind of nightmare right now, Mark?"

"You don't know how badly I wish I was." I muttered, clenching my teeth together in anger, my hands balling into fists.

"Oh, you're so damn funny, Mark." It laughed darkly, sending chills up my spine. "But may I remind you of something?"

"Go ahead. You're not afraid to tell me anything. And you really do have some sick shit to say to me." The second I said those words, I regretted even opening my mouth. Because, at that moment, It was standing directly in front of me and I felt my heart cave in inside my chest and I thought my throat was going to crack from suddenly drying up. It looked liked me. Stood as tall as me. Had a massive frame like me. Hell, some would say it was me. But it wasn't. At least...I didn't want it to be. It was a lot paler and probably had a bit more muscle on the arms, but it wasn't me. It's hair was jetblack instead of a light red and its beard hung down to its chest in the shape of a blade point. It's facial features were just about the same as mine, only a few years younger. But it wasn't me...

"There is no getting rid of me, Mark. I've been with you ever since that night you sold your soul. Just face it. You say you're sick of seeing me, but when you look in the mirror, I'm the only thing you see. You say you want me out of your life, but your life is _my _life. The only way to get rid of me is to take your life, Mark. I. AM. YOU. MARK!"

"DAMNIT, NO YOU'RE NOT!" I shouted back, but while I was saying one thing, my mind could not deny that I was looking at a mirror image of myself. An image that only my eyes could see. And as terrifying as it was, I once stood in the form of this demonic being. A Lord of Darkness as they used to call me. The most notorious, cold-hearted, evil son of a bitch known to man who thrived on spilling blood, taking lives, having my way with anyone I pleased. And it was funny how my heart chose not to feel remorse toward that past life until I had grown older and realized what I used to be. I used to be one of Hell's own creations. In fact, somewhere deep inside, I still was. The only difference from now and then was that I tried so hard to hide that evil, bloodthirsty part of me behind this mask of sanity and so-called 'innocence'. While I knew I was nothing close to that. I was a demon. Just like I was destined to be. "I hate you." I growled between clenched teeth, my entire body trembling in anger.

"Yes, I know." It smirked at me and between those strange, evil lips glistened dozens of razor sharp teeth. "You've hated yourself for years, Mark. But no matter how hard you fight it, you're never going to change. You're just going to put on more and more costumes of this normal human being, aren't you, Mark?"

"Get away from me!" I lashed out at him, but found myself stumbling forward through nothing but air and the next thing I knew, I was crashing over the patients chair. My hands reached and clawed for anything to stop my fall, but to no avail. I tumbled onto my back, my face winced slightly in the pain throbbing up and down my spine and standing over me with that devilish smirk was..._me._ That dark, bloodthirsty side of me that I just couldn't get rid of. I glared daggers into those glowing, blood red eyes until I thought a hole would form right in the center of my face. "You son of a bitch." I rumbled, not knowing what else to say.

"That's no way to speak of your mother, Mark." It continued to laugh at me.

I instantly jumped to my feet and grabbed the chair by the arms, prepared to hurl it toward the hulking creature, but before I could, I heard the door clicking behind me.

"Dr. Calaway?" I heard Michelle's voice as she slowly opened the door and I looked over my shoulder at her. Her eyeliner no longer rolled down her cheeks in black streaks and her blush had faded a great deal. She looked concerned, though. Her thin brows pointed toward the bridge of her nose as she stared at me. "I heard a noise."

"What noise?" I asked her as I gently set the chair back down.

"I don't know, but it was loud and it kinda scared me." She looked around nervously and smiled weakly at me after swallowing. "Do you mind walking me to my apartment? It's not too far from here."

"Sure. Why not? Just let me lock things up around here and I'll be right with you, alright?"

She nodded her response and disappeared out of the doorway and just as she left my sight, I turned my head back around to see if that Thing was still there. It wasn't. There was no trace that It had even been there. I released a deep sigh, no longer feeling cold to my bones like I did when It _was _there. I knew It would be back, no doubt. Unfortunately. And hopefully Michelle wouldn't be around to witness me talk to...myself.

"Dr. Calaway?" She called me from down the hall and I could hear a hint of impatience in her voice.

_I'm comin' you damn impatient bitch, _I wanted to say as I picked up my notepad and pen from my desk and left the office. I dug into my pants pocket for my keys, shut the door, locked it, tucked the key back into its rightful place. Michelle was waiting for me by the glass front door of the building, staring up at the sky while she stood completely still. When I followed her gaze, I realized that the sky was becoming an eerie, dark gray. "Come on." I pushed open the door for her and gently ushered her through. "Let's not get caught in a storm, sound good?"

She nodded as we walked down the steps leading to the sidewalk and immediately the sounds of the city streets met us both. I nodded to a security official who waited outside the door, signaling for him to lock up the building. Michelle had been my last patient for the day, thank heavens. There was only so much insanity I could take in one day before I found myself going insane like my patients. I was just glad Michelle didn't see my little episode...or she would've changed her entire outlook on me. Besides...who would trust the Devil as their psychiatrist?


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Matt Hardy**

It was past midnight and my head was throbbing from all the music and bright flashing lights I had to suffer through at The Angel's Lounge. Jeff was right – this place was one of the best clubs in the city, but you'd have one hell of a headache afterwards. I massaged my right temple as I made my way through dozens of half-naked, sweaty bodies bumping and grinding against each other as if all these filthy sluts needed each other's body heat to survive or something. The only thing this place inspired was hot, sweaty sex with people you didn't even know. I'd been witness to it for years. In fact, I remember watching Jeff fuck around with some twink named Chris. All that blonde hair was nearly ripped from his pretty, little head and he was screaming so loud I thought the entire club would soon tune in to watch. If anyone were to ask me, that boy really was an angel. Wish I'd had him for myself, but Jeff was the lucky one that night.

Speaking of the little rainbow sumbitch, I spotted him on one of the round platforms where the stripper poles were. He was laughing his ass off while he danced and swayed with a dark-haired dancer known as The Shaman. My eyes nearly fell out of my face when I saw how well that man could bend and twirl around that pole like he was made of rubber. I adjust my pants a little bit as I approached the platform, squinting against all the glowing bright lights lighting up the tanned beauty in neon green spandex. "Jeff!" I shouted above the booming loud music. "Jeff, it's time to go, man! Get your drunk ass down from there!"

"No fucking way, bro!" Jeff shouted back, his words slurred. Yeah..he was definitely drunk as usual. "I'm taking this bitch home!"

The Shaman gave Jeff a disapproving look before dropping into a Chinese split directly in front of me, flaunting his long, well-toned legs right in my face. I swallowed hard as I took in the holy sight, shaking away the forsaken thoughts that'd blossomed in my mind. "Oh, my God." I shuddered inwardly, feeling the urge to take the Shaman right on the pole. "Jeff, seriously. You're drunk as fuck!"

"I ain't drunk, Matt! You're always tryin' to embarrass me, man! For the love of God, them ain't my pink drawls!"

I squinted in confusion at him. _Jesus Christ. He's worse than I thought. _I hated having to lay hands on him while he was piss drunk but it didn't look like there was another option for the moment. Sighing and rolling my eyes, I climbed up onto the platform, receiving a harsh glare from the gorgeous dancer in response.

"The fuck do you think you're doing, bro?" He frowned hard at me, moving to the opposite side of the pole.

"Damnit, Matt! You're scaring him away!" Jeff immediately stopped his dancing and flailed his arms up at me.

"Don't give me that bull shit, Jeff!" I jabbed my finger at him as soon as I gained my footing. The whole damn platform was flashing like Christmas lights. I didn't see how The Shaman could last five minutes up here without catching a damn migraine. "Now, get down from here! We're goin' home now." I reached for his arm, but he only pulled away from me, nearly losing balance and falling right off the other side of the platform.

"Hey!" The Shaman suddenly got in my face, forgetting about the entire show. "Is there a problem here?"

"Look, buddy, you better focus on your dancin' or I'll have to lay hands on a bitch." I threatened him, not exactly expecting the answer I received.

"Bitch!" The Shaman's fist instantly crashed against my jaw and I stumbled back some steps, nearly falling from the platform. I heard Jeff explode into laughter beside me and that was when my anger exploded and before I knew it, I was running at him. I slammed all of my weight into him, tackling him clean across the platform. We fell a lot farther than I had expected, hit the floor where the crowd had turned to watch.

"You stupid whore!" I shouted at the top of my lungs as my fists came raining down on the Shaman's face. I knew I'd gotten into the fight because each time I said a word, a punch landed on his face to go with it. "If. You. Ever. Touch. Me. Again!"

"Get 'im, Matty! Get 'im, Matty! Yeah! YEAH!" Jeff cheered from the platform.

I didn't even notice the huge crowd gathering around us as I hammered the shit out of the Shaman's face. That was until I felt a pair of big arms grab me from behind and yank me off the little twink with such force I felt the wind come out of me. I squirmed violently against whoever was pulling me back, kicking my legs out like some wild animal. "Let me go! Let me go!" I yelled, spit flying from my mouth. But I was being hauled farther and farther away from The Shaman the more I fought my restraint. "Let me at the little bitch!"

The Shaman rolled to his feet, stumbling a bit as he glared evilly at me, one hand covering his nose, blood soaking his bare chest. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. He was cussing me the fuck out with those eyes of his.

"Where ya goin', Matty? The fight's not over." Jeff called like the imbecile he was, jumping down off the platform to come after me. _Oh, now you wanna come down, you son of a bitch. _

"Both of y'all are gettin' the fuck outta here!" A deep voice boomed behind me. Must've been a damn security guard. Boy was I in trouble.

I was still eyeballing the Shaman like I was plotting to kill him when he flipped two birds at me. By then, the security guard had just kicked open the side door of the club and tossed me out like a sack of rotten meat. He didn't have to man-handle Jeff because the deuchebag was running to pick me up off the ground.

"Fucking hell." I grunted, staggering to my feet. I heard the door slam shut behind Jeff and when I looked up at him, he had his arms folded across his chest, tapping his foot impatiently at me. "Oh, what so suddenly you're not drunk anymore?" I flailed my arms up, giving him a crazy, wide-eyed stare.

"I was just acting, Matt. Y'know? Having fun?" Jeff sighed in annoyance and shook his head at me. "I thought you would've been able to tell."

"What! Why the fuck would you act like you're drunk, Jeff?"

"I don't know, Matt. I just wanted to get close to John."

"Who?"

"John Morrison. That was the stripper's name."

I rolled my eyes and turned my back on him, looking up and down the dark, damp alley we'd been thrown in. I could hear sirens ringing from somewhere in the distance, but that was not what suddenly worried me about this place. What worried me were the moving shadows I noticed here and there. "Come on, let's get outta here, Jeff." I said, hiding the nervousness behind a solid tone.

"What's the rush?" Jeff asked nonchalantly. The smell of smoke had suddenly drifted into my nostrils and I turned, only to see that he'd lit himself a cigarette and had it tucked between his glossy lips. That was quick. "We have absolutely nowhere to be right now. _Nowhere._"

I could tell he was viciously angry with me, even though the essence of his tone was calm and collected. I decided not to get on his case about the cigarette. "I just don't like it out here. It's cold and there's way too many goddamn gangbangers for my liking."

Jeff blew a smoke ring from his mouth and rolled his eyes. "Pussy..." He muttered, walking toward the entrance of the alley.

I followed him after looking over my shoulders twice. For some odd reason, I suddenly started to feel as though we were being watched or something. I realized we weren't alone in the alley. Others entering and leaving the night club were present, but the chilling feeling pricked at my skin anyhow. I walked a bit faster to keep up with Jeff, tucking my hands into my jeans pockets. It wasn't long before I started to see my own breath in the air with almost every exhalation. It was nights like these when I wished I was at home, tucked under some covers, or standing under shower water, reflecting on life. You know...safe. But nowadays I can't enjoy those luxuries. I'm stuck watching after my sick brother. That's right. _Sick. _Not _crazy._

We were both silent. Jeff was probably thinking about that stripper named John Morrison. _The little horn dog. _For some reason he could never like a normal, sophisticated man. It was always some low-class whore like...John Morrison.

"Matt." Jeff's voice interrupted my train of thought.

I looked up at him, not able to respond before I noticed the concerned frown on his face. He was staring straight ahead, his attention caught by something. I followed his gaze after mimicking his expression, and soon discovered why. There was a man standing in the mouth of the alley, completely centered so that our attention was focused on him and nothing else. He was huge. Probably about seven feet and the scarlet trench coat hanging from his broad shoulders made him appear even taller. The closer we walked toward him, the more I noticed that he was staring right back at us. But his expression was not as curious as ours were. Instead, he wore a predatory glare that sent shivers up my spine. I swallowed and tried to look away, but I could still tell that he was watching us. "Don't look all obvious, Jeff." I whispered.

And the second the words left my mouth, I heard an approaching engine and out of nowhere, a large, black van pulled into the alley, halting with a screech. Jeff and I stopped immediately, exchanging glances in concern. The van door facing our direction slid open and out stepped two other large gentlemen. Each wearing long dusters as if they were apart of some gang.

"Oh, shit." I whispered, realizing that the men were walking right toward us, including the one dressed in red.

"Hey, we don't want any trouble." Jeff said, putting his hands up in defense.

"Trouble isn't what we're here for." Said the man in red, finally stepping into a ray of light coming from a nearby street lamp.

My mouth went dry the second his face was revealed. He had a head full of long, braided hair, decorated with beads in the shapes of silver skulls. His eyes were sunken into his face with added eye liner to further darken his already pitchblack eyes. Black and white lines were traced from beneath his eyes to his chin where his beard was cut in stripes, sort of like Jeff's. I swallowed to moisten my throat, but the effort had hardly worked.

"Who the hell are you?" Jeff demanded.

"Who I am doesn't matter..." The man responded in a darkly amused tone, sizing Jeff up with his eyes. "What matters is the fact that I know who _you _are...I know where _you_ live...and I'm about to make _you _my screaming little bitch!"

At that moment, he lunged at Jeff. He was fast for someone of his size, but I had already anticipated it and was at Jeff's defense before he could even flinch. I swung a punch at the man's face, planning on knocking him unconscious right then and there, but he simply caught my fist as if it was nothing. I yelped as he twisted my arm sideways, forcing me to turn so that he could pin it behind my back. I got one good look at Jeff while I was struggling against the searing pain in my arm and to my surprise, his eyes were glazed over as if he were drunk and he was backing away from us slowly. Watching, but he seemed unable to comprehend what was going on. Usually he'd be the first to fight a bitch, but now...something was wrong.

…...

**Jeff Hardy:**

I didn't know what was happening. Why I was watching my brother get his ass handed to him, but couldn't move to help him. My entire body was shaking from head to toe. Quivering slightly like a million little vibrations, running especially up and down my spine. My feet wouldn't stop taking me back, pulling me farther and farther away from my brother. I didn't understand...what the fuck was happening to me?

"Such an honorable young man." The mysterious man hissed in Matt's ear while his arm was still twisted and pinned behind him. "Throwing yourself into harm's way to protect your brother. It's just too bad you're going to fail...miserably." With that, he snapped his fingers and two of the large men who had been standing by the white van came forward. I couldn't even blink as I watched them, and I could hear my own heart beat thrumming in my eardrums. Growing louder...and louder...and louder...and louder...

Thwack! The shorter of the two henchmen who's face was hidden behind a horrific black and red mask, was the first to strike Matt across the face. The blow was so hard I could've sworn his jaw had cleared the alley. Following the blow to the face, the taller man jabbed his fist into Matt's stomach. I could hear the wind gush out of his throat, leaving him stunned and breathless at what was happening to him. I felt my left eye twitch and my hands mimicked the motion by my sides. My blood began to boil, running hot and quick in my veins. A strange ringing sound started in the back of my skull, drowning out the sound of Matt's whimpering and the grunts of the enormous men as they continued to beat on him.

"Are you enjoying this, little Hardy boy?" Matt's mysterious aggressor taunted me, his voice echoing into the way back of my mind. My entire body began to shiver at the sound of that venomous voice dripping from those disgusting black lips, but not in fear. No. I wasn't afraid at all. I was angry. And I could feel that anger pumping through me, faster and harder by the second. The longer I stared at the three men and Matt before me, the more I felt that anger growing inside me until my chest began to burn and it became difficult for me to breathe and my vision was at first blurring, then turning red. I could hear hardly anything else but my heart beat now, deafening me, sending nerves exploding in me. I felt like...I felt like hurting someone. No...I wanted to see blood. Lot's and lot's of blood.

In the instant that I recognized the unusual homicidal desire, something snapped in me. A terrifying urge overpowered the last bit of sanity I had left and before I knew it, I was running, my legs taking me forward so fast I could hardly register it. "YOU SON OF A BITCH!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, frightening myself. It was my voice...but I didn't say it.

All three men looked up with a start just before I tackled the masked man to the ground, his weight going down with mine, thudding against the concrete.

"Shit!" The mysterious, dark man hissed, backing away with Matt still in his grasp, barely alive.

I couldn't stop myself as I screamed at the top of my lungs, my fist pounding away at the masked face below me. So hard I could hear bones cracking. Flesh tearing across my own knuckles. I didn't get the satisfaction of beating the living hell out of the sumbitch for more than a few seconds before the other henchman came crashing into me from behind, sending me sprawling across the concrete. We rolled together as he tried to link his arms around me and hold me back from tearing his partner apart, but I wasn't having it. This uncontrollable, monstrous side of me just wasn't having it! I threw my arms out to break his hold and rolled the man beneath me all in one fluid motion. He froze for a second, evidently caught off guard. My perfect opportunity to make him my little bitch. I slammed my fist into his throat, the sound of his windpipe shattering under my strength was sweet music to my ears. "Do it again, bitch!" I yelled, spit landing on the man's face. "DO IT AGAIN!"

The man reached up to grab my head, but I easily leaned back and punched him dead in the nose in return, blood splattering everywhere. Soaking his duster, splashing onto my face...turning me on. I punched him again, and again, and again with both arms flying like I'd lost my damn mind, screaming, "No one touches my fucking brother! Not you! Not the Halloween sumbitch over there! And in a second, I'ma rip your grim reaper lookin' son of a bitch's nuts off and choke him with 'em! Ya hear me, bitches!" I dug my fingers into the man's eyes and he immediately spazzed out, gurgling in pain because he couldn't scream, couldn't use his voice. I was glad. If I did hear it, it would've driven me up one of these brick walls. Then again, I was already there. And it felt good. It felt so fucking good.

Pushing my fingers deeper into the man's eyes, I closed them around the slimey, round objects, squeezing until I could feel a jelly-like substance squirt out into my hands with a gushing sound. I licked my lips as I watched blood and pus pour down the man's face, practically forming a pool beneath his head and then I began to pull on his eyes. Tugging them from their sockets, causing even more blood to gush out all over me. The man struggled like a captured animal beneath me, but for some reason, he couldn't escape like I thought he would. I didn't understand how I could overpower a man that goddamned big, but I wasn't questioning it. I was excepting it like a law of physics.

I heard a gut-wrenching pop noise and my left hand flew back into the air. When I looked up, drops of blood landed on my forehead and I saw that I was holding the man's left eye in the air like a trophy. I brought it down to eye level, a wicked smirk forming across my lips as I examined the organ, the sticky, twitching white ball covered in popping red veins, oozing jelly-like blood and pus that raced and dripped down my arm. The man squirmed and writhed beneath me, continuing to gurgle like he was about to vomit his guts out. "Ya like the taste of your own blood eyeballs, mother fucker?" My voice came out in a psychotic hiss, but I wasn't sure if I had spoken. "Well do ya?"

The man shook his head violently in response, shaking blood and sweat all over the concrete. I laughed at him. A maniacal, inhuman laughter that left his body shivering in fear. "Well guess what. I'm gonna shove these mother fuckers down your throat and you're gonna chew 'em up and eat 'em like mama's homemade fried fuckin' chicken, dickface!" I rammed the eyes into his mouth, this time eliciting a throaty cry from him. Ah, so his voice box was still functioning. Good. I wanted to hear him scream. "Eat it bitch!" I hollered, pushing the eyeball down into his throat with two fingers. His crying almost immediately turned into horrid coughs and gags as he tried to heave the eyeball from his throat. He choked harshly, his body jerking and spasming upward, bucking me up and down like I was riding a wild bull. "YIPPEE KAYEH MOTHER FUCKER!" With one hard tug, I ripped the other eye right out of his face, punching him hard across the jaw before forcing it into his mouth like I did the first one, making sure it was lodged far enough down his broken air hole to cause the most pain.

At that moment, I heard another sound strike my eardrums. It was Matt's voice followed by a thump and the roaring of a car engine. I looked up immediately, just in time to see the white van pulling out of the alley. "Matt!" I shouted, jumping to my feet. By the time I started running after the van, it was speeding down the road, nearly wrecking other vehicles along the way. I bolted out of the alley and sprinted down the sidewalk in my leather combat boots, not worried about anyone in my path. I bumped into several people who cursed at me in response, but I didn't care. I could feel tears swell up around my eyes as I watched the van slip farther and farther away, knowing that Matt was trapped with those wicked men. God knows what they would do with him. "Matt, no!" I stopped once I cleared an entire block, nearly collapsing to my knees. A wave of dizziness passed through me from exhaustion as I panted heavily, struggling to breath after having run as fast as I could. "Oh, God." I coughed, my face scrunching up as tears began to pour from my eyes and my heart began to ache in my chest, like someone had taken it and stabbed it with a knife. A knife called failure. I'd failed to save my brother. And if my mother was looking down on me, she would have been shaking her head in shame.

For a moment, as passersby eyed me as if I was some looney man on the street, their eyes wide and filled with concerned, all I could do was lean against the window of a nearby store and cry. Long, agonizing cries that came clawing out of me, tearing into the air. Blades of sorrow. "Fuck you!" I cried out, holding myself around the shoulders as if I'd suddenly grown cold. "Fuck you, you sick fucking PRICK!" I felt my entire body shaking from the inside out. Trembling in anger and rage toward those men who'd taken my brother from me. What if I never saw him again?

_You just gonna stand there and cry like a little pussy?_

I suddenly heard a voice. A voice that sounded just like mine, but it wasn't mine. I looked about frantically, my mouth hanging open in astonishment. There was no one that I could see speaking to me, but I knew I'd heard a voice. I wasn't that damn crazy. "I'm not a pussy!" I shouted at an unknown man in a beige coat, walking briskly past me to avoid conflict.

_Well then grow a set of balls and go kill those bitches. Kill them for your brother._

The voice had spoken a lot clearer this time and I slowly stood up straight, looking around, not responding to it. Whoever had spoken was right after all. Even if it was just a voice in my head, I didn't have to argue. I just wanted to release all my anger in the most violent way possible.

_Now go make this the last night that blind mother fucker ever sees._

I was eager, for some reason, to obey this voice, my hands shaking and itching to do exactly what the voice had told me to do. I made an about face and started walking back toward the alley. Tears no longer fell from my eyes; instead, my expression felt blank, emotionless. Like all the pain I had been feeling moments ago just faded deep down inside me, transforming into an animalistic thirst for blood and vengeance.

When I reached the alley, the large man was still there. A few people who were leaving the night club looked on in shock and horror as he crawled on his hands and knees very, very slowly, choking and coughing up blood and vomit. His clothes were stained in his own gore, creating a horrific smell I'd never forget. I was a bit surprised to see that he was still alive. But I knew he wouldn't be for long. I approached him from behind, breathing heavily through my nostrils as I stalked him, feeling a smirk pull at my lips. The same one I'd had on my face when I was beating the hell out of him, soaking myself in his blood. "Where are you going, little bitch?" I whispered to him, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him upright. "I didn't say I was done with you. My brother's gone. Your little broskies took him from me and since I can't get to them right now...I guess I'll just take it out on you." I gripped his forehead with one hand and his chin with the other, feeling his own huge hands grab me by my wrists. "Have fun in hell, you dirty bastard." And with that, I snapped his fucking neck like the ninjas in martial arts movie. That loud snapping sound sent a chill up my spine. A good chill.

I allowed his body to collapse on the ground at my feet, hearing gasps and shocked profane responses all around me. But I didn't care. For the most part, someone sensible who knew the streets would eventually hide the body and then everything would return to normal.

But not for me. I could never be normal.

_Well done, Jeff. Well done._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Mark Calaway**

Every night was almost the exact same. I'd go home after a long day of work, have a drink, then hit the sheets. Fall asleep for five minutes before seeing _It's _face, wake up sweating profusely, and never fall asleep again for the night. Tonight was probably the eighth time that it had happened in a month because It -_He_- refused to let me sleep. I didn't quite understand why It enjoyed tormenting me so much and maybe I never will, but for the past few months, I've been doing nothing but accepting it. What more can I do? There's no fighting a ghost of the past.

"Hey, Mark. Wake the hell up." The deep, masculine voice was like a slap to the side of my head.

I blinked several times before remembering exactly where I was. Dick's Bar N' Lounge. Best bar in Texas. Seated by a window stretched across the front wall of the bar, I would've thought that the noisy cars outside and the loud bastard rednecks in the bar would have been enough to keep me from going off in my own little world, but was my little world that deep and dark that it completely drowned out my surroundings? I could tell by the way my muscles felt stiff in my face that I was mean-mugging the hell out of the bald-headed Texan standing over my table trying to get my attention. What was his name again? Oh yeah...Stone Cold Steve Austin. That's what we called him around these parts, but sometimes he just preferred Austin.

"I ain't sleep, boy." I growled at him, which only made him laugh and take a seat on the other side of my table. _Great. Company._

"Then somethin's on yer mind." He said, slamming his beer mug down in front of him as if trying to draw my attention to it. And it had worked. "Remember this big fella?" He asked, sloshing the bitter, golden liquid around in the crystal mug. "You used to order these every time you came here. Good ole Jack Daniels. I ain't never seen a man take down an entire mug of it either, which meant you were in a happy place. Wanna know what you order nowadays?"

I sighed and sat back in my chair. "What?" Came my uninterested response.

"Captain fuckin' Morgan." Austin raised his voice at me. "And ya know what that means, Mark?"

"No, I don't, Austin. I don't give a fuck ei-"

"It means yer fuckin' depressed. When you drink Jack Daniels, it makes ya think of yer past and yer past is pretty fucked up. Ya know, with those women, gambling, yer addictions and shit. Ya coulda really ruined yerself for life back then. Shit like that haunts ya. Makes ya angry inside. Crazy. So now ya order yerself a new drink to take yer mind off of it. But it ain't workin' fast enough so ya order it again and again and again-"

"Austin...really...what the fuck is your point?" I frowned at him, my annoyance turning into irritation.

"I'm just showin' that I'm worried about you, man." Austin shrugged, lifting his mug to his lips to take a gulp. "You ain't been the same lately."

"So fuckin' what?" I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table, looking him in the eyes. "I'm just fine. I got a house and a job. I don't need women or drugs or shit like that. All I need in life is me, myself, and I."

"How _is _that Madhouse of yers comin' along?" Austin caught himself grinning at me.

I narrowed my eyes at him for a moment, wondering if he was trying to change the subject on me. He did that a lot during our conversations. Like he just couldn't focus on one subject at a time. Retarded bastard. "I found another lunatic earlier today. She didn't have to tell me much for me to figure out what she was about."

"It's a girl?"

"Ain't that what I said?" I reached across the table and grabbed Austin's beer, ignoring the questioning look he gave me in return. "Now, come on, man. That's a pretty good beer I just paid for." He said quietly, but I simply glared at him, tilted it over my mouth and let the cold, golden liquid run down my throat. All of it. When I saw Austin sit back and brush his hand down his face in an irate manner, I set the mug back down and licked my lips slowly for him to see that I enjoyed it. "Damn right it was a pretty good beer." I said spitefully, just to torment him like he usually found himself tormenting me.

"I ain't mad." His voice sounded shaky when he spoke, like he was trying his hardest to fight down the anger building up inside him. It was obvious that I'd pissed him off with the beer stunt, but he figured I'd win if he showed it. _Ah, this game don't ever get old. _"So what's her name?" He took a deep breath, looking down at the empty mug in my hand that was once his precious Jack Daniels.

"Excuse me?" I cocked my head at him.

"The new lunatic you found? What's her name?"

"Oh. Her name's Michelle."

"Michelle." Austin repeated the name slowly as if enjoying the way it sounded as it rolled off his tongue. "She sounds like a doll. Maybe you could introduce me sometime." He shot me a mischievous smirk, causing me to roll my eyes.

"Maybe she's way off limits because she's a deranged psychopath and possibly a threat to society." I replied sarcastically. "Besides, I don't need you messin' around with one of my patients."

"Ah, I won't be doin' no messin' around, Mark." He chuckled, standing up out of his chair. "There ain't no harm in showin' her how we do it at Broken Skull." I grimaced as he put his hands behind his head and started thrusting his pelvis hard and fast into the table, shouting, "Wham! Wham! Wham! Take my Texas rattlesnake, Michelle!"

"Austin!" I shouted, lunging out of my chair at him, only to have him take off running in the opposite direction, laughing his ass off. He could be so openly disgusting sometimes. Not that I always minded. I just wasn't in the mood for it tonight.

I left a tip at my table and headed for the door, shaking my head at the bald-headed bastard and his foolish antics. Only reason why I had tolerated him so much was because he'd been like a brother to me since the 90s and in actuality, I didn't know what I'd be doing without someone like him to keep me in check. Back when I was strung up on drugs, suicidal, and just lost in life, he was there to help me out...like a brother. I could turn to him for advice and what not, but only when he wasn't getting just as piss drunk as I was.

I looked over my shoulder before I walked out of the bar. Austin was leaning sideways against an old jukebox and when he saw me looking at him, he saluted me with a sideways smile. I returned the salute, then walked outside into the cool night air.

My Harley was parked just beside the door. Thank goodness it hadn't been touched or I would've had to kill a bitch. I climbed onto it without bothering to start it, deciding that home was a short distance away and I could just relax outside. Digging into the pocket of my favorite black leather vest, I pulled out a cigar I'd been waiting to smoke since the day had gotten started. I tucked it between my lips and reached in my other pocket for a lighter. After a few seconds, the only thing I felt was a tiny ball of lint and an old bullet. "Goddamnit." I muttered, realizing that I'd forgotten my lighter...again.

I sat there for a moment in thought, trying to remember just where exactly I'd forgotten it or if I'd even forgotten it at all. Maybe I had just put it in a different pocket that morning. _Damn, I must be getting' old or somethin'._

I saw something moving out of the corner of my eye and looked across the street. My eyes narrowed, zooming in on a shadowy figure walking up the sidewalk, arms wrapped around itself as if it was cold. The street lights were a bit dim where the figure walked, but once it walked under a lamppost that just happened to be bright enough, I saw that it was a male. A young one at that. He looked a mess, walking with a hunch while breathing hard as hell, like he'd just gotten through running through town. His wet, blonde hair was strewn all over his face and I couldn't help but notice the green, pink, and blue streaks hanging past his shoulders. I sat up on my chopper, trying to get a better look at him as he awkwardly stumbled into a wall, paused, looked around, then continued to walk, hugging himself tighter. I studied his face to see if I knew him, but I didn't recognize him at all. I'd say he was a gorgeous young man, though and didn't look like he belonged in these streets.

I continued to watch him until he found himself a nice, dark alley and disappeared within the shadows. Literally. Frowning, I stood up off my chopper and began making my way across the street. At this time of the night, there weren't many cars out so I wasn't the least bit worried about getting hit on the way. When I made it to the sidewalk, I heard a couple of voices in my ear. No, I wasn't going crazy at that moment, but I could hear people walking by who had seen the boy.

"Crazies these days." Said a man in an all black suit, walking with a woman next to him. "It's gotta be the music they listen to."

I shot a glance in the man's direction as he walked right by the entrance of the alley and he glanced right back. We held each others' gazes for a moment, before he grew concerned and looked away quickly, acting as if he didn't even see me. Yeah, I had that kind of effect on people sometimes. _Punk bitch._ I turned my focus back on the alley and walked inside, the darkness instantly engulfing me as well as the God-awful smell of urine and old trash. I moved slowly and cautiously to prepare myself for any sudden surprises like a random gang attack or some shit like that. Then again, what gangbangers around these parts had balls enough to attack Mark fucking Callaway?

"Kid?" I called out once I was certain that no one else was in the alley besides myself, the young man, and a bald cat hiding behind a dumpster. "Kid!"

I began to hear whimpering and deep breathing from somewhere deep within the alley. I knew it was the kid but I couldn't see him through the eerie darkness. So I went deeper, startling myself when I accidentally stepped on a beer can and crushed it under my boot. I heard a gasp in response and then a voice that definitely wasn't mine. "W-who are you? Stay away from me." The voice was so shaky and full of fear that it pulled at my insides. I couldn't leave someone like that alone in this kind of place.

"I'm not gonna hurt you." I spoke calmly, continuing to move toward the voice. Now I could just barely see the silhouette of the young man sitting against the back wall of the alley, holding himself as if he would come apart at the seams at any moment. A sickening, yet familiar stench wafted into my nostrils at that moment – one that didn't take me long to recognize and almost recoil from. _Blood. _After a second or two, I saw exactly where the smell of blood was coming from. The boy was soaked in it from his head to his waist. It looked quite uncomfortable for him because a lot of it had drenched through his skimpy, tight-fitting mesh shirt and his baggy, black pants were dry as sand.

"Please, don't come any closer." He begged, sobbing quietly, holding one hand up in defense.

I knew a near-seven foot bastard coming toward him in almost pitch blackness would scare him a little, but I had ways to convince him that I wasn't threat to him. "Look, kid, you're hurt. You need help." I said, keeping the same calm tone that I had used before. "I already said I'm not gonna hurt you and I sure as hell don't lie. See?" I dug into the pockets of my jeans and my leather vest to show him that I had no weapons on me. The only potential weapons I possessed at the moment were my bare hands, but I kept them open so he wouldn't expect me to beat him and rob him where he sat. "I got nothin', kid." I informed him, slowly crouching down in front of him.

"I don't need your help! I said get away from me!" He suddenly shouted, then flinched as if I'd raised my hand to him.

"I'm not gonna leave you here alone to get mauled by some little punks with chains and baseball bats. It's dangerous out here and you look pretty damn vulnerable right now. Just let me help you. I can get you to a hospital or even a police station so you can tell them who hurt you."

"No!" His eyes grew so wide I thought a vein would burst inside them as he jumped back and struck the wall violently. His chest heaved up and down and he shook his head quickly, looking at me as if I'd sprouted horns and a long, spiked tail. I frowned at him, not saying anything. "You can't- you can't fucking do that, man!" He stammered, pushing back on his legs as if trying to faze through the damn wall.

"What? Kid, you're soaked in blood and probably losing more blood as we speak. You need to get to a hospital. Look, my ride's right across the street and the hospital's not too far. If you can't walk in yourself, I'll carry you."

"No!" He shouted again. "I can't go in there!"

"Do you hear yourself? You're telling me you don't need to go to a hospital, yet you're bleeding out of just about every part you."

"It's not my blood!" He almost choked on his words and as soon as they were out, he buried his face in his arms and started to sob loudly.

I stared at him in utter shock, the words echoing around in my head for a minute before I finally snapped out of it, swallowing. I knew there had to be a reason why I had followed this guy. "You...hurt someone else?" I lowered my voice, allowing him to hear the concern.

"No. I didn't hurt him." He panted, lifting his head to look at me. His forest green eyes were like glass, meeting my own acid green ones in such a way that made my chest burn. "I...I killed him." His bottom lip began to tremble and he dropped his head sorrowfully, his tears cutting clean paths down his blood-stained face. "Oh my,God." He used his hand to wipe the tears away, smudging blood and dirt all over his skin. "He was right. Matty was right. Oh, God."

I blinked, frowning at him. "Who?"

"My-" Before he could finish answering, he covered his face with his hands and started to sob again. I watched him quietly, not asking him anything else until he cut his sobbing short and looked up. "I'm so fuckin' sorry, Matt." He seemed to apologize to the sky. Either he was crazy or he had someone named Matt looking down on him.

"Who's Matt? If you don't mind telling me."

"He's my brother." He took a deep breath and sighed, his eyes falling shut for a moment.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"The man I killed," The boy began to explain. "I killed him because...he was with these men. They were really big and..." He paused and I could tell he was on the verge of breaking down. "They took him away from me. They took my brother, man! They took my brother!"

I rested my arms on my thighs as I continued to stare at him. Feeling a mixture of emotions building up inside me. Sympathy, anger, confusion, concern. I had to take him home. I couldn't turn him into the cops and I couldn't take him to a hospital. He'd be in a worse predicament than he already was.

"But now I know the truth." The boy spoke again, looking past me, becoming lost in thought. Silence followed his statement and then suddenly, the smallest hint of a smile broke out on his face. I squinted at him, a bit caught off guard to see it. It started off small then widened into a snake-like grin. Was he possessed or something? Then he began to chuckle. At first he was quiet with it, then it began to escalate into a full blown cackle. My eyes widened a bit as I cocked my head at him, not saying a word. "Now I know they weren't lying to me when they called me crazy. Matty said I was just a little sick." He then turned his attention back to me and I noticed something different in those eyes. Something frightening flashed right through them, letting me know exactly what I was dealing with here. "And they were right. I'm fucking insane!" His eyebrows lifted almost into his hairline as he exploded into laughter again.

He was quickly interrupted by the sound of sirens blaring from the distance. I looked over my shoulder toward the mouth of the alley, spotting red and blue lights reflecting off of store windows and when I looked back at the young man, he was no longer laughing. A look of absolute horror had replaced that psychotic joker smile he'd worn for just a minute. I quickly grabbed him by the shoulders and jumped to my feet, pulling him up with me. "I'm gonna get you outta here, kid. Here, take this." After using my arm to wipe the blood off his face, I quickly stripped off my vest and handed it to him, telling him it was big enough to cover up his bloody upper body. Once he got it on, I put one arm around him and started making my way out of the alley. He followed with no words and I felt him bury his face in the side of my chest to hide himself.

We walked briskly across the street, trying our hardest not to look suspicious. "Don't let them take me. Please, don't let them take me." He whispered into my white shirt over and over again, his body trembling against mine.

"Hush. I won't." I answered between clenched teeth, looking around to see if we were being watched. There were just a couple of eyes glancing our way, but more so toward the cop cars that were now approaching the roadway. "Shit." I hissed. "Move faster, kid."

As soon as we reached my chopper, I practically tossed him on the back and climbed on in front of him, instructing him to put his arms around my waist so he wouldn't go flying off. He did what I told him and we were gone within moments of the cops' arrival.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Jeff Hardy**

I had to admit that I was nearly shitting myself as I held on to the unknown man in front of me. My heart was racing so fast I thought it would burst and the only thing keeping me from sweating profusely was the wind slapping me in the face. I didn't even know who this guy was, yet I was riding off into the night with him like I just _wanted _something to happen to me. He could've been a killer or a rapist. Or worse: he could've been both! I swallowed hard like reality was just sticking needles in my skin to get my attention.

But I was too afraid. Too afraid of the cops catching me and putting me in jail for murder. I'd be there for life...and then who would be able to save Matt? I couldn't let that happen to me.

"Where do you live?" The large man asked.

"Don't take me home. That's the first place they'll look for me." I answered quickly, shaking my head.

"Then where the hell are you supposed to go? Got any relatives?"

"Not here in Texas."

"Jesus." He mumbled. "Then you're gonna have to come to my place, kid."

I stared at the back of him for a long, drawn out moment. I had been thinking the same thing, but was too afraid to actually put the idea out there. For some reason, this guy seemed like he'd been through something like this before.

"I never got your name, by the way. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I'd prefer to know." He glanced once over his shoulder.

"It's Jeff. Jeff Hardy." I told him hesitantly, looking around almost frantically right afterwards. I just had an inkling that people were watching from every possible angle. I could feel eyes burning into my skin, scowling at me for what I had done, but as I looked around, I discovered that no one was actually looking at me. It was all in my head, maybe._ Yeah...it's all in my head. Get it together, Jeffro. Get your shit together._

"I'm Mark." The big man introduced himself, speeding up his chopper.

…...

In a matter of minutes, we'd driven past most of the city area and reached a more quiet side of town. It was a lot more rural and rather scary since it was so dark. We made a turn into a pair of black gates which opened up into a long driveway lined with overgrown trees. I looked around nervously and could've sworn the trees themselves were watching me, reaching their enormous, dead limbs toward me and each time the wind blew, they'd howl,

_Psycho._

_Murderer._

_You're going to burn in Hell._

I swallowed so hard it almost hurt, peering over the big man's shoulder to see exactly where we were headed. My eyes grew even wider when I saw the huge building all the way at the end of the driveway. It was made entirely of brick and had windows just about everywhere. It reminded me of the haunted mansions I'd seen in movies, but it wasn't rundown like the typical 'House on Haunted Hill.'

We pulled up in front of it and Mark killed his Harley's engine. "Well, here we are, kid." He sighed softly in relief, disembarking the chopper.

My eyes kept darting back and forth between him and the house. None of my muscles wanted to move at the moment, neither did I want to speak. It was like he'd superglued me to the damn bike. He looked at me and frowned, obviously concerned. "You comin'?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

"I,uh..." I could barely speak. Perhaps the trauma of the whole matter was catching up to me from the long ride.

"Alright. Fine." Mark swung one leg over the chopper and sat back down, facing me this time. His legs were open so far that my knees could only touch his inner thighs. I felt awfully small looking at him like this. I mean, this guy was fucking huge! I looked up into his piercing, acid green eyes and felt my spine quiver slightly. Despite the fact that he was so intimidating, he was actually a really good looking man. Something about his hard facial features really drew me in, including the way he held his head a bit tilted when he looked at me. Like he was peering down into the very depths of my soul. I swallowed again.

"By the looks of everything, you might be here in hiding for quite a while." He told me. I hadn't noticed his Texan drawl at first, probably because I was so scared I couldn't focus completely on him at the time. "Since you might be here for a while, you might as well know what goes down at this house."

"What do you mean?" I frowned at him. _Oh, my God. What if he kills people in this house!_

He glanced at the enormous brick structure and sighed. "I call it the Madhouse." He began to explain in a calm voice. "I know. Doesn't sound all that invitin'. But its home for me and everyone else in there who are...well let's just say...not in their right minds."

"What? Like crazy people?"

"Exactly. I know what its like for them out in the world. That's why I've decided to take them in and help them out. This here is where I do all my studies and observations. I basically protect them from the outside world where people's only solution is to toss them in asylums. They don't deserve that. I know what its like."

"So you're like...a psycho doctor?" My eyes widened once again.

"You can say that. I'm a licensed psychiatrist. My job was the root of my idea to make this place a home for crazies as other folks like to call 'em."

"Wait. Wait. Wait." I shook my head, trying to sink it all in. "So, you must think I'm crazy."

Mark frowned at me, then shrugged. "Maybe."

"Yeah. You think I'm crazy or else you wouldn't have brought me here. Matter of fact, you wouldn't have followed me into the alley." I back-flipped off of the chopper, which made Mark reel back in shock, and landed on my feet behind it, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Let's get somethin' straight right fucking now! I ain't fuckin' crazy, man!"

Mark simply gave me an unconvinced look. "Yeah...they usually don't admit it when they're in your state of mind."

"Oh, really? And just what in the hell is my state of mind?"

"Right now you're pretty normal. But back there in that alley, I saw something different. Like I was talking to two different people at one time. Except, that second person didn't come out until much later."

I stared at him, my chest heaving up and down as I felt myself becoming angry. "You know what?" I looked away for a minute, then back at him. "Maybe you're right."

Mark narrowed his eyes questioningly.

"If this is what you call a Madhouse...I fucking belong here."

"No shit, Sherlock." Mark stood up off the chopper, swinging his long leg over the back. "Now get your ass in here or I'll have to drag you."

I put my head down a little as I followed him toward the front door. He didn't have a big porch like I did back at my place; just a staircase leading up to a brick platform with enough space to put a bench. I assumed it was where he had his smokes when he needed them and I was pretty sure that with his kind of life, he needed an awful lot of nicotine.

He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the front door, opening it to expose a huge foyer. The lighting was rather dim as I stepped slowly inside and he walked in behind me. I could tell by the décor of the house that he was into a rather dark taste. Most, if not all, of the wooden furniture was mahogany and the walls were painted a dark green. Even the tiles on the floor were black marble. He had an interesting collection of art decorating his walls. Art from hundreds of years ago. Portraits of people who looked like fucking vampires, paintings of peaceful graveyards, and even a painting of an eerie meadow. I swallowed once again and felt him tugging at the vest he'd given me. "Showers are upstairs. I'll get you a room to stay in for the night. Let you settle in and get comfy."

I whirled around to face him, giving him a frantic look. "I don't have anything else to put on." I informed him. "And going back home to get clothes is pretty dangerous at this point."

"Kid. I got all that taken care of." Mark replied. "Just get out of those filthy clothes and get in a fucking shower. I don't need my damn house to smell like piss and blood. Speakin' of which, let me show you to it." He began toward a tall staircase that winded up to the second floor. The place was fucking huge. Big man; big house. We climbed up the stairs and as I followed behind him, I couldn't help but notice how nice his ass looked in the jeans he was wearing. I bit my lip, but stopped immediately when the taste of blood filled my mouth. I made a funny face and wiped my mouth with my arm. I was startled to see that I still had so much of it left on me. How did no one notice on the way here?

When we got to the second floor, I noticed that it was just as dark and macabre as the first floor. There were several doors leading to several bedrooms lining the long hallway before us and I could see an elevator all the way down at the end of the hall. _Wow, _I thought to myself as I lifted my brows. "How do I know I'll be safe here, uh, Mark?" I asked curiously, looking up at the back of Mark's head.

"Because no one knows what's in this house...except for the residents here." He answered. He found an empty bedroom in the middle of the hallway, opening the door for me like a gentlemen. I thanked him as I walked inside and looked around. The room was nice...and dark, of course. "And if anyone other than the residents find out...well, let's just say its the last thing they'll ever know."

I frowned at that, but by the time I turned to ask him what he had meant, the door had already slammed shut and he was gone like that, leaving me alone to handle my business. I blinked several times then took a moment to look around the room. There was a dresser, an arm, a nice sized bed and a closet that I was pretty sure could hold a damn car. The door was wide open so I could see that there were clothes on the inside. Walking over to the closet, I flipped a switch next to the door and instantly a light flashed on from the inside. I didn't know whether or not Mark had taken the time to pick these clothes out for someone whom he knew would eventually join the manor or if they were clothes he'd worn way back in time. Nevertheless, they were quite stylish and I couldn't help but admire his badass biker fashion.

I found a bathrobe in the closet, wrapping it around me after I had stripped myself of my own clothes. The robe was enormous on me, probably belonged to Mark once upon a time. It was white, cotton fabric, soft and comfy as a mother fucker! I went to my new dresser to pose in it, just to see myself act silly, but then I saw something that immediately killed the silly mood. Blood. There was still blood all over my face, hair, and chest. The reality of what had happened moments ago struck me like a lightning bolt and for a moment all I could do was stare at my own reflection in silence. It was like looking at a character from a horror movie, a psychotic escapee from an asylum who had just committed an awful crime. "Oh, Matty." I breathed quietly, reaching up to touch my blood-stained face, a face that had brought me pride and dignity for years in the past. "I'm a monster, Matty."

A loud knock on the door interrupted me. In fact, the suddenness of the knock made me jump hard enough to backhand a tall wine bottle onto the floor. I was grateful when it hit the carpeted floor and stayed in one piece, but I was sure whoever owned it would have been pissed to see it there. "Come in." I yelled, quickly scooping up the wine bottle and placing it back on the dresser. Who the fuck was drinking in this room anyway?

The door opened a second later and I looked up in time to see that badass redhead sticking his head through the doorway. "Can you hurry up? I gotta show you to the bathroom." He said.

"Sorry. I was just coming out." I answered quickly and a bit nervously, gathering up my robe as I began toward the door. I noticed the way he looked me up and down while I was in my bathrobe and I blushed momentarily. Hopefully he hadn't noticed. He held the door open for me as I walked out. Such a gentleman, I thought. Which somewhat contradicted the way he looked. We walked down the hallway side by side and I purposely moved a bit close to him without him noticing just so I could feel his huge, muscular arm brush against mine.

"Hey, kid." He spoke up, causing my eyes to snap up to look at his face.

"Yeah?" I answered almost cheerily.

"Ever heard of personal space? I mean, I know you're kinda nervous about being here and all but..."

"I'm sorry." I quickly apologized, moving myself away. "So how long have you lived here?" I tried to change the subject, feeling a bit awkward now.

Mark arched an eyebrow at me before answering. "Been here since 1992, son. It was the first year I noticed my own illness."

"Illness?" I frowned up at him.

He took a deep breath and tucked his hands into his front pockets. "Yeah. Don't wanna call it nothin' else. I didn't wanna move into a neighborhood full of mansions because then I would be around people. I would've been dangerous around...so many people." It looked like he shuddered at the thought. "I prefer the peace and quiet of isolation. Where do you live?"

"North Carolina originally. But...me and Matty had to move out of that place. We figured Texas would give us...y'know...a bit more."

Mark nodded as we turned a corner and stopped. "There's the bathroom, kid." He inclined his head toward a tall, wooden door. "Don't take long. Dinner's in about an hour."

"Oh, sweet! Feels like I haven't eaten in days, man!" I beamed. "And, uh, thanks...Mark. Thanks for everything. I don't know what would've happened to me if you didn't show up in that alley."

At first Mark didn't respond, then a small smile appeared on his rugged features. I smiled back at him uncontrollably, then turned and went inside the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

The bathroom was relatively large and I could tell that it was used by several people. The sink had toothbrushes, razors, and makeup utensils everywhere so it was evident that I was sharing this piece with a woman. I took off my robe and hung it on a hook, stepping into the large, glass shower and turning on the water. Immediately, the cold liquid met my bare skin, causing me to shiver pretty hard, but pretty soon, soothing warm water was running down my body. Sighing in relief, I closed my eyes and hung my head down, allowing the water to soak my hair and wash the makeup off of my face. I began to hear one of my favorite songs in my head, _Highway To Hell _by ACDC, and as usual, I started to sing it quietly, my head eventually beginning to bob to the rhythm of the music.

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the blood coming off of my body running down into the shower drain. It scared me at first and I sucked in a gasp, taking a few steps away from it as quickly as I could. Why was I so afraid? Perhaps I was afraid of the fact that I had actually enjoyed killing that man in the alley. The feeling of his bones cracking and breaking under my fists and the sound of his neck snapping as I ended his life brought such joy and satisfaction to my heart that I could hardly contain it. But why? I hated it! I hate not being normal.

Suddenly becoming angry, I grabbed a bottle of Dial shower gel off the rack in front of me and popped open the lid, squirting the cold gel all over my torso. I began rubbing my hands vigorously all over my body, lathering the soap all over me. It smelled so strong, so masculine. As a matter of fact, the manly scent made me think of Mark. There was no denying my strange attraction to him. I mean, he was like a hero when he rescued me from that alley. Yeah...maybe that was the reason. If only he had joined me –

"Excuse me?"

_Oh my, God! _A sudden female voice had spoken and I jumped so hard I accidentally scratched myself across my right nipple. "Shit." I hissed as I crouched forward a bit, looking through the glass door of the shower to see who the hell it was that had just intruded. "Occupied!" I shouted, squinting.

"I know that. You don't have to tell me." The female spoke again.

"Well, can you get out of here until I'm done? I don't like people intruding while I'm showering."

"Oh, keep your balls on." I could hear the woman walking toward the sink. She stopped to look at herself in the mirror for a second, then started walking again. At that moment, the unthinkable happened.

The shower door swung open and I didn't know whether to react from the sudden burst of cold air of the sight of an unknown naked woman standing directly in front of me. I immediately jumped back against the wall and covered myself, my eyes and mouth falling agape. "Oh, my God! What the hell! Who the fuck are you?" I shouted frantically.

"Doesn't matter." The woman answered, tossing her long, brown hair as if she were in a Cover Girl commercial. "Now get out of my way."

"What the fuck do you mean get out of your way? I'm trying to take a fucking shower!" I felt myself wanting to throttle this lady for barging in on me like this, but then it hit me. _Fuck...she's one of the crazies in this house. I guess I should expect the worst at all times._

She stepped into the shower without answering my question and used one hand to push me to the back, completely disregarding the fact that I was there first...and I was naked! "What the fuck are you doing!" I yelled at her, staying against the wall.

"What's it look like, douche bag! I'm taking a fucking shower!" She barked at me, hissing at me over her shoulder like some kind of animal. She walked under the running water and started to rinse out her hair. I couldn't help but look her up and down while she got soaking wet in front of me. She had the most amazing body I had ever fucking seen! I swallowed and forced myself to look away, then sighed in defeat. "Fine." I huffed in frustration. "I'll just let you have the fucking shower."

I had just started to exit when she suddenly whirled around and grabbed my arm. I instantly gawked at her like she was completely insane, her iron grip sending a hint of pain through my arm. She glared at me through strands of brown hair falling down her face like the grudge as if I had said something offensive to her. "Don't you dare fucking leave me." She demanded.

Okay, now this lady was giving me the creeps. "Alright." I put up one hand in defense, afraid that she would bash me upside the head with a bar of soap if I didn't obey her. "I won't leave. Just...don't fucking touch me okay?"

She gasped at that and pulled her hands to her chest in shock, giving me a puppy dog look. "Well, why not?" She asked.

I frowned at her, still trying my hardest to hide my junk with my hands. "What do you mean why not? Cause this is some fucking awkward shit, lady! I don't even know you and we're sharing a shower!"

She reeled back and hissed at me again, this time baring her teeth like she was a vampire or something. I flinched for a second, my eyes widening at her. We were both silent, looking each other in the eyes, predator and prey. Then she stood up straight and started to giggle like a little girl.

_Oh, my God. This bitch is fucking psycho! _I swallowed. "What's so fucking funny?" I lowered my voice.

"You're so pretty, Mr." She said in a high, child-like voice. Like the voice of the scary little girls you see in horror movies singing, "One two, Freddie's coming for you."

"Uh, thank y-"

"Tell me...do you think I'm pretty?" She tilted her head a bit as she smiled innocently at me, her eyes sparkling as they looked deep into mine.

My groin twitched, but thank Odin I was still soft. "Uh...you're pretty? Yeah, you're very pretty." I said it just to get myself out of whatever trouble had suddenly come upon me. This lady had nothing but bad news written all over her.

"Aw, you're so sweet. Can I touch you now?" She reached for me before I could even respond,slapping her hands to my face.

I immediately jumped back, breaking the door open with my body. I caught myself from stumbling as I began backing away toward the door and this crazy bitch followed me, her arms still outstretched toward me like she was chasing a magical unicorn who promised her candy. "No, stop it." I commanded, using my shoulders to block her hands as best I could as she now began to touch my chest area. "You're so dirty! Get away from me!"

She exploded into kiddy laughter and suddenly leaped forward, wrapping her arms around my neck. Before I knew it, I was falling backwards under her weight, shouting for help. My back hit the bathroom door and immediately broke it open sending me and the crazy bitch collapsing out into the hallway. I landed faceup and she landed facedown on top of me, giggling and snorting as she kicked her legs in pure excitement. "Yay! Pretty kitty's got the itty bitty mousey!" She cheered.

"Bitch, get off me. Now!" I grunted, struggling to push her off of me.

I heard a deep voice clear its throat after that and immediately froze. _Damnit,_ I swore at myself, assuming that it was Mark. Hesitantly, I turned my head to the side and the first thing I saw was a pair of feet dressed in black socks. Above that stood a pair of long, denim-clad legs but as I looked up even further, I discovered that this man was not Mark at all. No, he was much shorter than Mark, and had finely tanned skin unlike Mark. Instead of long red hair, this man had his hair cut short and instead of acid green eyes, this man had intimidating gray eyes planted into a face chiseled out of stone, both flawless and hairless.

Without taking my eyes off of the man, I shoved the crazy bitch off of me as hard as I possibly could, hearing her shriek loudly as she flew aside and hit the floor with a thud. Looking into this man's eyes, I felt a sense of familiarity come over me. His look told a story that I felt I had been apart of. Every feature of him brought something back in me and I knew I had seen this man before. Yes, I definitely knew him from somewhere.

"Trish." He spoke, his deep voice swimming around my head and into my ears like needles. "Trying to have your way with unknown men again? How many times do I have to tell Mark to put your ass on a leash?" Even the sarcasm in his tone was awfully familiar and I frowned at him, wonderingly. "Now get your ass up and get yourself together, you slut."

The woman named Trish jumped to her feet angrily, pouting at the man. "You never let me have any fun!" She whined, then stormed back into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

I rolled over and pushed myself up to my feet slowly, covering myself with my hands again. I couldn't help but stare at this man in shock as recognition hammered itself into my brain.

"Randy!"


End file.
